


Snow on the Desert

by chapscher



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 02:24:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2834726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chapscher/pseuds/chapscher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Earl prepares a Christmas meal for Cecil while a blizzard hits Night Vale.</p><p>Songfic: "Snow on the Sahara" by Anggun</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow on the Desert

**Author's Note:**

  * For [type_here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/type_here/gifts).



_Only tell me that you still want me here_  
 _When you wander off out there_  
 _To those hills of dust and hard winds that blow_  
 _In that dry white ocean alone_  
  
The kitchen was warm and dusted with a light coat of both sugar and rice flour. The window over the sink groaned as spiraling fractals coiled into uncountable shimmering crystal flakes. Earl reached across the bowls that needed washing to lightly press his fingertips against the glass. It was as cold as the snow and ice that billowed over the city. He wiped the fog from the glass, clearing a viewing portal for the secret police. The officers were visible hiding behind cars and large dead cacti, little puffs of breath lifting over the snow.

The radio was still playing the weather and Cecil hadn’t come home yet. If the blizzard didn’t stop soon he would have to take the Christmas special to him. For dessert, a box of assorted cookies, all with Chef Mason’s trademark 1 ½ cups ground nutmeg. But for the entrée he constructed sausages from puffin heart and roasted three entire cinnamon birds that were drowned in Armagnac. Cecil always took seconds. It was something all his own he concocted at tourniquet – something that was going to be unveiled officially without him that night. He didn’t mind. He was in his chef uniform anyways. And after so many years alone, Earl wanted to spend this Christmas with Cecil.

_Lost out in the desert  
You are lost out in the desert_

He stopped washing the dishes for a moment to stare at the radio. Cecil had told him long ago that he shouldn’t look too deeply into the weather. But sometimes he couldn’t help it.

They were just friends. They were just friends and this dinner was a simple Christmas present. Earl knew that. They can agree to this. Even after the night he and Cecil spent together in October, they were just friends. It’s what Cecil told him. When he was younger he might have demanded some answer - why Cecil would do this and how he could possibly expect Earl to put it all behind him. But he could never ask that now. They had both been apart from each other and alone for a long time and Earl didn’t want to drive anything more between them.

Besides, Cecil was waiting for Carlos to come home. There was something wonderful in Cecil’s eyes whenever he spoke about him, which was something he did often. Whenever Earl sat down to talk with Cecil he was always told what Carlos was up to or some sweet thing he said. However, truth be told, Carlos hadn’t even started looking for an old oak door back to Night Vale. It was the one thing that remained unspoken, but all of Night Vale knew it. And it was something that was breaking Cecil’s heart, anyone could see that.

_But to stand with you in a ring of fire_  
 _I'll forget the days gone by_  
 _I'll protect your body and guard your soul_  
 _From mirages in your sight_

Earl knew that tonight for Cecil was going to be just another night when Carlos won’t come home. Another tally mark on a wall. Another chaste kiss shared between Earl and Cecil that ended in heavy sobbing and being rushed out of the house so Cecil could mourn alone. And all this may still happen, this he knew. But he was determined to make Cecil know that someone was there who cared about him. That he didn’t have to be alone again tonight.

He didn’t know what time it was according to the watch Carlos gave Cecil a year ago, but according to the clock in the kitchen it was getting late. If Cecil was going to eat the food Earl had prepared for him, Earl would have to go out and bring it to the station himself.

It was so simple and beautiful to imagine: stepping into the station with the snow trailing into the building after him. He would approach a tired, hungry Cecil sitting behind his desk in the studio. Dish by dish would be set down in front of him, steam rising and the scent of expertly cooked meats drifting down the halls of the station. The two of them would sit down and eat and talk quietly as the weather played on. Cookie crumbs would scatter across the desk as the two of them shared a bottle of hot chocolate rum, kept warm in the glow of bloodstones. The weather reports will continue into the night as they keep each other company and end up sleeping in the large office chairs. It was everything Earl could want.

He put the sausages and the birds in the oven to cook, thinking of boxing them up and setting them on the desk. Silverware. Drink glasses. Candles. It grew more elaborate and grander as he set everything out and sprinkled nutmeg over the whipped potatoes he was warming on the stove.

_If your hope scatter like the dust across your track_  
 _I'll be the moon that shines on your path_  
 _The sun may blind our eyes, I'll pray the skies above_  
 _For snow to fall on the Sahara_  
 _If that's the only place where you can leave your doubts_  
 _I'll hold you up and be your way out_  
 _And if we burn away, I'll pray the skies above_  
 _For snow to fall on the Sahara_

Just a few more minutes for the birds and they would be ready to be put in the basket with everything else. One course after another appeared in Earl’s mind as he imagined placing them on Cecil’s desk. Things were coming together so well that his heart sunk when he heard the doorbell. His hands sticky from sugar and spices, Earl walked through the living room and opened the front door with a smile that quickly faded.

“I’m sorry. I think this is the wrong door.”

Carlos stood in the hallway of the apartment, snow clumped and melting in his hair. He was hunched over, kept warm by only a thin lab coat. Earl could breathe in the cold air that lingered around the scientist in the hall.

“No,” Earl said, not moving from the doorway. “This is right.”

“Oh? Um… Who are you?”

“Earl Harlan. Cecil had me over to make dinner.”

“I never-“

“We’re best friends.” He hesitated. “I mean, we used to be, but we had a falling out. But now we’re fixing things.”

“Alright.”

“We dated, actually. A long time ago.”

“Is Cecil here?”

Earl wiped his sweating palms on his chef uniform. “Of course not. You’ve seen the weather. He’s at the station.”

“The station,” Carlos echoed. He looked back down the hall towards the entrance of the apartment building. “Yes. I… I suppose he would be. I mean, scientifically speaking.”

“I was actually about to head out,” Earl said, finally taking a step away from the doorframe. “Bring him a warm, home-cooked meal. You can come in. Clean yourself up. Rest. He’ll like coming home to you whenever this blizzard stops.”

“No! I…” Carlos stopped clearing his throat and running his hand through black wet hair. “Sorry. No. I want to see him as soon as I can.”

“Oh.”

“Can I come with you? When you go deliver food to him at the station?”

Earl turned to go back to the kitchen and Carlos followed him back into the apartment. While Carlos shuffled around in the living room, Earl looked over the spread of glasses and candles. Dinner for two. Setting for two. Drinks for two.

“No,” Earl murmured, tracing his fingertips over the two crystal absinthe glasses. “I don’t think so.” He had found them wrapped up in soft towels and old newspaper. Heirlooms. Some of the most valuable things Cecil owned. And there were only two of them. He gently placed them back on the table and wrapped them up again.

“Pardon?” Carlos stepped into the kitchen wearing the heavy winter lab coat that had been hanging in the closet.

“Sure, I can drive you over there.”

_Just a wish and I will cover your shoulders_  
 _With veils of silk and gold_  
 _When the shadows come and darken your heart_  
 _Leaving you with regrets so cold_

Earl had taken three Irish coffee glasses from the cupboard and placed them in the basket beside the bottle of chocolate rum and the bloodstones. Each glass had a small but obvious line down the middle where the two halves were fused together. It was the only set he could find three glasses from.

The basket with all the food and glasses and silverware was sitting on Carlos’ lap for the short, careful ride over to the station. Although he had a heavier coat on and had spent about fifteen minutes just standing next to a still-warm oven, Carlos still shivered occasionally as he drew the basket closer and closer.

The snowfall was so heavy that Earl could barely see a few yards in front of him. He was the only one out on the road, his SUV muscling over the unplowed snow that lay in drifts over the streets and sand. The van lost traction on every turn, making him skid until he bumped into a slightly harder drift of snow that marked a curb or a mailbox.

Carlos was completely silent as the radio played softly between them. The air in the van was heavy with Earl’s steady and even breaths. Earl’s hands gripped tight at the steering wheel, his nerves a hair-trigger away from bursting into a string of profanities or just taking the basket and shoving Carlos out of the car.

_Lost out in the desert_

Earl reached out and snapped the radio off. They rounded another corner and Earl pumped the breaks as the wheels slid over ice and new snow.

“How did you get back?” Earl said, his knuckles white as he tightened his hold on the wheel.

“Oh. I, uh, I found an old oak door.”

“You found one? Just like that?”

“Yeah, it appeared out of nowhere. You know, kinda like how the old oak doors appeared here when-”

“-Actually, I don’t know. I wasn’t in Night Vale when… that happened.”

“Oh. Well. Anyway, I just wanted to study it at first. I mean, it was so scientifically interesting and strange. I asked Doug to look after it for me while I get my notes and take some measurements, but he told me that I should go on through and worry about collecting data later. I really hope the door’s still there. I think I came out in Grove Park? I would love to figure out what’s going on with them.”

“Who’s Doug?”

“What?”

“You mentioned a Doug. Who’s Doug?”

“Oh, he’s the leader of this giant masked army. I was living with him and his partner, Alicia, and their dog.” He sighed and shifted the basket around on his lap. “I hope the door’s still there. I really want Cecil to meet them and see this really just _fantastic_ otherworld. You know, I called him right after I found the door because I really wanted him to come over, but he didn’t answer.”

“He left his phone at home. He forgot to charge it last night, I guess.”

“Ah. Well, that’s okay, I guess.”

_If your hope scatter like the dust across your track_  
 _I'll be the moon that shines on your path_  
 _The sun may blind our eyes, I'll pray the skies above_  
 _For snow to fall on the Sahara_  
 _If that's the only place where you can leave your doubts_  
 _I'll hold you up and be your way out_

Cecil’s was the only car at the station. Earl smiled, pumping the breaks one last time as he slid into the parking lot. Cecil must have sent Maureen and Svee home early. There were faint ridges in the snow-covered parking lot that marked where their cars were. Snow clung to the bricks lining the station and surrounding a small lit window. Earl turned off the engine and everything was quiet except for the wind groaning outside. Earl smiled, looking out across the snow from one warm sanctuary to another. The thought of Cecil safe and warm through the storm brought back memories of being a young scout and orienteering with Cecil. Cecil always used to run off and Earl would need to find him. They would be alone, far from the troop, and usually hiding from rain or a dust storm.

Earl absently grasped for the basket, but his hand landed on Carlos’ arm instead. Brought back to the present, Earl drew his hand back and turned away.

“Should we go in?” Carlos asked. The basket was still held close to his chest.

“Yeah,” Earl said quietly. He pushed open the van’s door and stepped calf-deep into the snow. As he stared up at the streetlights he listened as Carlos’ door opened and the footsteps that followed. For a brief moment he could almost see his once imagined self, smiling as he held the basket and rushed from van to front door. He had imagined not being able to even feel the cold as he rushed to Cecil’s side.

“Earl? Are you coming?”

Just let them have their moment. It’s been too long for Cecil. For Carlos, Earl didn’t know. But that wasn’t important right now.

But seeing Cecil truly smile for the first time in months would be worth it. At least, it should be.

“Yeah.”

Past the bloodstone doors, Earl stood in front of the studio doors with Carlos waiting a few yards behind him. Earl peered through the small door window looking into Cecil’s studio. Cecil was flipping through reports that materialized on his desk. Despite the pot of coffee he had sitting within arm’s reach, he looked exhausted. The weather still played on.

Earl tapped on the window and Cecil looked up. As the radio host smiled Earl felt his pulse quicken. Maybe it was because Cecil was all alone here, but part of him genuinely wanted company, Earl could see that. More than this, Cecil wanted _his_ company. Although this was something that Cecil had expressed many times since they were reunited a few months ago, Earl was still humbled and even love-struck by the sentiment.

Cecil opened the door and pulled Earl in for a close embrace. “I hoped you would stop by.”

“I don’t doubt that. You’re probably hungry.”

“Oh, yeah. That too.” Cecil stepped back, his fingertips lingering against Earl and trailing down his arms to hold his hand. “Thank you.”

Earl was about to speak when Cecil stepped in again and kissed him deeply. There were no tears, just whatever strange affection grew between them. Earl wanted to grasp at Cecil. To take control of the kiss and back him against the wall, kissing over and over until they would both grow short of breath. But he couldn’t do that now. And there was a very real possibility that he will never be able to do that ever again.

“Um, Cece?” Earl hummed gently as Cecil broke the kiss. “There’s someone who wants to see you. Out in the hallway.”

Cecil’s eyes lit up. “Did you bring Janice with you?”

“Well…” Earl stepped back and let Cecil out into the hall.

“Hi, Cecil.”

Earl watched as Cecil stood perfectly still out in the hallway. Hands flew up to cover his mouth. Slowly, he bowed forward, hiding his eyes behind his fingertips and silent until a low sob cut through his breaths. Earl stepped towards him, wanting to take Cecil into his arms and tell him that it’ll be okay, but he stopped. Carlos was already there.

“I missed you so much, Cecil.”

“Carlos.”

Earl stood in the studio, looking out at Cecil and Carlos. It wasn’t what he expected. Cecil may be weeping in happiness, or rather, relief, but it completely covered any smile that could be on his lips or in his eyes. He didn’t look too different from what he looked like when he cried before. It was the same as Earl had seen too many times before: Cecil sobbing and too overwhelmed to speak.

Everything should be different, Earl thought. But the same was still there, looking the same as it always did. The only thing different was that Earl wasn’t the one comforting him. And Carlos repeated “I’m here now,” something that Earl wanted to tell Cecil so many times.

Turning away, Earl saw his basket of food sitting on the floor. It was so important earlier, something he was proud of and wanted to share with Cecil. It was trivial now. A warm meal of the most highly-praised dinner in Night Vale was nothing in comparison to Carlos coming home after all these months. And Cecil was sobbing too hard to have an appetite.

The food belonged there as much as Earl did.

Earl lightly squeezed Cecil’s shoulder as he walked past and immediately regretted it. It was an interruption from whatever must have been rushing through his mind. Carlos either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He nudged the basket closer to the studio door before turning to walk back into the storm. Alone.

_And if we burn away, I'll pray the skies above  
For snow to fall on the Sahara_

Earl took out his pocketknife as he stood at the bloodstone doors. He fumbled with the blade as he heard Cecil get his breath back and repeat the name “Carlos.” About five months of renewing his friendship with Cecil and the two of them walking the edge of something more than friendship. Earl knew that here could have been another chance for him. One more shot at getting this right.

It didn’t matter now.

Earl cut open the back of his hand and spread the blood over the bloodstone doorknob. Even if they could remain friends, Carlos was there now. If Cecil ever doubted himself or was in pain, Carlos would take care of him. Earl was afraid they would grow distant again, or that he would overstep his bounds trying to keep that from happening. Either way, they would be driven apart and their relationship something that should have just been left in their shared past.

“Earl, wait.”

The door swung open and Earl was hit by snow and wind as he turned to Cecil again. His eyes were puffy and red, but he was smiling.

“Stay with us, Earl. Please.”

“Are you sure?”

Cecil nodded and he pulled Earl away from the door. Another embrace. Earl glanced down the hall and saw that Carlos had already taken the basket into the studio. As soon as he began thinking that this couldn’t last, Earl felt Cecil’s lips against his neck.

“I can’t thank you enough, Earl.”

“For what?”

“Just… everything.” He stepped back. “I’m sorry, that’s probably not very satisfying. I’m not that good at this.”

Earl smiled warmly as Cecil cleared his throat and led him back to the studio.

“Carlos told me that you made us all dinner. You know that I’m not about to eat it without you.”

Earl stepped back into the studio and closed the door behind him. The three men sat at Cecil’s desk, food set over memos and the rum set on its bloodstones. The warm, heavy scent of roasted birds filled the studio as outside the snow covered the desert.


End file.
